


Death In Two Acts

by Zeiskyte



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Character Study, Experimental, Gen, M/M, POV Second Person, Screenplay/Script Format, The gays get revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26568952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeiskyte/pseuds/Zeiskyte
Summary: Dad leans back and appraises you for, perhaps, the first time in your life. His gaze sweeps over you meticulously, and you suppress the urge to shudder. Show no fear, keep smiling, don’t scream,breathe breathe breathe.“That boy you’re always with,” he remarks after a moment. “He’d look better with a bullet between his eyes, wouldn’t he?”Keep smiling, don’t scream, don’t scream,b r e a t h e-“Yes, sir.”Dad leaves, the door shuts, and you crumple to the floor in a heap.Business as usual.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53





	Death In Two Acts

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write a story that uses blended genres for a creative writing assignment and Goro brainrot means Goro fic. This is different from canon because I didn't want to rip off Goro's backstory for my assignment, so yeah. No Powers Goro attends Shujin AU where Goro lives with his parents but is still Shido's hitman. This may be tagged with script format but it's actually a mix of fiction prose and script!

**ACT 1  
** **SCENE 1**

Dad slides a gun across the table and says, “Want to prove yourself to me?”

Yes. What other option is there? You nod, and your fingers ghost over the cold metal.

“Shoot your mother and _then_ come speak with me.” He stands up, dusts off his blazer. His brown eyes glare down at you from the bridge of his nose and the curl of his upturned chin. Business as usual.

You take the gun into ~~trembling~~ fingers and nod once more. Business as usual.

Dad leaves and your shoulders sink, the weight of the gun multiplying in your hands. This was _far_ from your first hit. Killing a stranger at fourteen was much different than your own mother at seventeen - _but_. You needed to stay on Dad’s good side. It’s always been _them_ or _you_ , and you quite liked living another day.

A practiced flick and - the gun is hidden under your shirt, muzzle tucked into your pocket. Concealed carry makes for easy transit.

You learn quite a lot after being your dad’s personal hitman for a few years. Makes for a good under-the-table resume, too.

In a breath, you fade into the darkness of the hallway, slipping into the shadows like a second skin.

* * *

**ACT 1  
** **SCENE 2**

_The hallway outside of your mother’s bedroom. It is dark and the room is small, sparse of furniture and belongings. MOM is asleep on her bed, back turned away from YOU. Her body is hardly covered by the thin blue sheet, legs tangled in the blanket. YOU open the door quietly and step inside._

YOU ( _to yourself_ ) I’m such a fool.

_YOU walk forward, footsteps muted against the carpet. MOM’s even breathing falters as she shifts on the bed. MOM turns to YOU, blue eyes bleary in the low light._

MOM Honey? Is something the matter?

YOU ...

MOM █████████? ... Why are you just standing there like that?

YOU ...

_MOM continues to regard YOU curiously, the beginnings of anxiety creeping into her gaze. YOU stride forward with small steps, fingers mechanically reaching for your weapon._

MOM ( _pulling the blanket over her chest_ ) N-no. You... you _wouldn’t_.

YOU ~~I’m sorry.~~

_YOU retrieve the gun in a practiced motion; MOM scoots backwards and holds the blanket in shaking fingers. YOU click the safety, the echo reverberating against your bones. MOM’s face is painted in shock, tears welling in her eyes._

MOM ( _through her tears_ ) Did I do something _wrong_ , █████████? Was I not good enough for you?!

YOU You did nothing wrong.

_Pause._

YOU ~~I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.~~

_The gunshot echoes and bounces against the walls, and MOM’s body collapses against the bed. MOM was asleep. MOM would never be waking up. YOU flick the safety back on and relegate the gun to your pocket once more. Another job well done. DAD should be pleased with YOU._

YOU ( _to yourself_ ) I’ll make this right. I’ll - I’ll take care of him for you, Mom. It won’t be long before _he’s_ the one with a bullet in the back of his brain. ( _pause._ ) I’m sorry.

_YOU approach the bed, moving to place the blanket over MOM’s corpse. DAD will be happy. MOM will be happy, too, once DAD is gone. YOU might be happy by the end of this as well._

_YOU exit stage left._

* * *

**ACT 1  
** **SCENE 3**

Dad regards the gun with a brief glance before returning his eyes to you. In the smallest offer of praise, he gives you a short nod. “It looks like you’re good for something, after all.”

You swallow down the bile rising in your throat and plaster a smile onto your face, all plastic and saccharine and _perfect_. “Yes, sir,” you say. “Is there another target for me to take care of?”

The corner of his lip tugs into what might pass for a smirk. “I like the way you think, boy. What changed?”

You’re seventeen and you’ve lost count of your victims. Your mother is dead by your own hand. Your father has groomed you to be his personal killer and -

“I had a change in perspective,” you croon, “ _sir_.”

Dad leans back and appraises you for, perhaps, the first time in your life. His gaze sweeps over you meticulously, and you suppress the urge to shudder. Show no fear, keep smiling, don’t scream, _breathe breathe breathe_.

“That boy you’re always with,” he remarks after a moment. “He’d look better with a bullet between his eyes, wouldn’t he?”

Keep smiling, don’t scream, don’t scream, _b r e a t h e_ -

“Yes, sir.”

Dad leaves, the door shuts, and you crumple to the floor in a heap.

Business as usual.

* * *

**ACT 1  
** **SCENE 4**

It’s been two days and you haven’t moved Mom’s body. The room is beginning to smell, and opening the window would help if you were allowed to do that. You knew better than to send off a smoke signal to the neighbors, of course. Mom didn’t raise an idiot. ~~She raised a fool instead.~~

So - Three days after shooting Mom, you camp out behind your high school. You had asked your friend to meet you behind the football stands later into the evening. Dusk settles and the gun’s tucked into your pocket and hidden under your shirt as always. The field and the area surrounding it is desolate; all in all, it’s the perfect spot for a murder.

Your head snaps up at the sound of footsteps. _He_ appears from around the corner of the bleachers, worn out Converse scuffing up the dirt at his feet. Messy dark curls, large glasses, and an uncharacteristic look of surprise on his face. You could still turn back. You could turn the gun on Dad instead.

“█████████?” _He_ asks, slate gray eyes hidden beneath the glare of his lenses. “Why haven’t you been in classes lately?”

You manage a shrug, painting your face neutral. “I’ve been busy.”

Busy killing your mother. Busy crying over her corpse. Busy plotting your revenge on your father. Busy, busy, busy.

_He_ takes a step forward, hands still shoved in his pants pockets. He’s slouching as always and you’re barely taller than him like this. If _he_ was the one with a weapon, you’d be dead in less than a moment. Your guard is down. You see him and your walls crumble down down down. He’s always had a quick hand and fast reflexes. Does _he_ know you’re about to shoot him between the eyes?

“█o████r████,” _he_ straightens out his shoulders, looks down at you from the bridge of his nose and his upturned chin and - “G█████o██. This is about your dad, isn’t it?”

* * *

**ACT 1  
** **SCENE 5**

_Dusk on a weekday evening. The moon has begun to rise, and the beginnings of stars speckle the night sky. Your fingers brush against your gun and YOU wonder for the first time - what is this even for? What will YOU accomplish by doing this?_

HE Hey. Don’t go quiet on me, █████████. That’s my thing.

YOU S-shut up.

_HE takes another step towards YOU, entering your space. From this close proximity, YOU can see the fire in his eyes. His face is the picture of determination. Your hand rests on the gun, and YOU imagine what HE would look like crumpled over with a bullet in his brain. Beautiful, perhaps._

_After a moment, his eyes flick to your hand. His lips part, HE rips his hand out of his pocket, and HE -_

YOU Stop. _Please_.

_HE lowers his arm, slate gray eyes hidden behind the lenses once again. Is HE angry at YOU? Surprised? HE stands his ground regardless._

YOU ( _fingers wrapping around the hilt of the gun_ ) Dad’s… he’s making me do this.

HE Why are you still listening to him? What kind of father turns his own son into a hitman?

YOU …

_YOU had been doing this for years. YOU had been killing whoever DAD told you to - and for what? DAD gave YOU a target and YOU gave him an autopsy. When YOU would report a successful kill, DAD would give YOU a small smile, clipped praise, a warm feeling in your chest. Once MOM had found out about this ordeal, DAD ordered the hit. Business as usual._

_HE_ _snaps a hand forward, grabbing your wrist. YOU nearly drop the gun in your shock._

HE G̵͔͍̒ơ̸̰̜̪̱̥̐̇̈͝r̸̗̍͌͠o̴̱̹͕̘͗. Listen to me. It’s not too late. We can… we can kill your dad, alright?

YOU I… I still haven’t-

HE What are you going to accomplish by killing for him?

_Your arm drops, gun nearly slipping from your grasp. What_ were _you going to accomplish by killing for DAD? YOU had been fourteen when this all started. It had been for the approval. It had been for_ love _. Now, your mother and countless others were dead, buried six feet under. DAD would require more hits the further up he climbed on the political ladder. YOU would provide a body count and a smile._

YOU ...

YOU I’ve already killed so many. Maybe - maybe I…

_HE bats the gun out of your hand in a single swipe. His eyes are clear through his glasses, slate gray cold with fury._

HE Goro. Killing yourself will do _nothing_. Your dad’ll just find another hitman.

HE We need to remove the root of the problem. Alright?

_Your eyes flick to the gun, swatted away and lying innocently in the dirt. That’s right - the gun was useless without a person to aim it. YOU were the weapon. The gun was just a tool._

YOU … Alright.

_DAD had puppeteered YOU for far too long. Time for YOU to cut your strings._

**END OF ACT 1**

* * *

**INTERMISSION**

“Akira,” you say, and you wait for it to have meaning.

_He_ \- no - _Akira_ turns to you and takes your hand in his, interlacing your fingers together. And so it does.

* * *

**ACT 2  
** **SCENE 1**

The sun had set by the time you arrived home, and the moon hung heavily in the sky above you and Akira. Street lights illuminated your back, casting long shadows onto your front steps, and the chill of the night seeped into your bones. Dad should be home, tucked away in the den and facing the door.

“Quick hand?” He asks conversationally, the slightest crack of a smirk. The anxiety from earlier had vanished, replaced by the cool confidence of a natural leader. You found you never wanted to see fear painted on his face again.

You twirl the gun in your hand, catching it by the muzzle. Brandishing it out to him with a smirk of your own, you say, “Don’t insult me.”

He exhales a laugh, makes no move to take it, and that’s the end of that. It was only right that _you_ were the one to shoot your father. It would simply be karma, and the old bastard had it coming to him. You owed your victims that much.

Your fingers tighten around the pistol apprehensively. “Ready?”

Akira meets your gaze with a smirk. “Always.”

* * *

**ACT 2  
** **SCENE 2**

The door swings open, hinges protesting faintly against your touch. Mom wanted to replace it a year or two ago, but that was out of the question now. A new door wouldn’t bring her back. At least by killing your father, you could fulfill her vengeance. You could avenge everyone you had killed for him.

… You lost track of your body count. How many people have stared down the end of your gun, mortified and watching their lives flash before their very eyes? Would they laugh as you were personally dragged down to hell by the devil himself?

“Hey,” Akira says, and the clearness of his low voice brings you back to reality. “It’s gonna be fine. He won’t know what hit him.”

You offer the barest of nods and step inside, Akira merely a breath away. Closing the door as quietly as possible, you meticulously observe the room you’re in. The living room is the caricature of a home, a carefully-curated space meant to resemble the intimacy of a real family. The furniture is well-worn, and your mother’s favorite loveseat sits against the wall, untouched and still slightly crooked. The wood of the armrests is warped - an intricate design she hated at first and nearly drove back to the upholsterer to return.

Akira takes your hand and your breath hitches in surprise. Right. You had a mission.

Your hand tightens around the pistol, cool metal familiar in the grasp of your fingers. One more hit and it was all over.

* * *

**ACT 2  
** **SCENE 3**

“█████████,” Dad calls from the den.

You take a deep breath and Akira gives a reassuring squeeze of your hand. Pitching your voice up higher, you croon, “Yes, Father?”

“Come in here.” His voice has a sense of amusement in it, as if he were smiling at something. You and Akira are in the hallway, just out of sight of the man. You glance back to your friend and he gives you a nod, determination evident in his features.

Without a moment of hesitation, you slide the gun into Akira’s waiting hand and turn the corner into the den.

Dad sits in his chair facing the door, appraising you and all that you’re worth. With the frown that draws his lips downward, it isn’t much. He snaps his book shut, the sound resonating against the walls, and slowly places it onto the table next to him.

“█████████,” he says again, face carefully blank, “do you believe in retribution?”

Your heart is pounding. Dad knows. Dad knows and his face might be the last thing you ever see. He’s going to grab his gun and you’ll be dead before the bullet reaches the back of your brain. Is Mom crying for you right now? Does she even _know_?

Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you nod slowly. “I do, sir.”

Dad tilts his head with a slight smirk. “You’ve killed quite a lot of people, haven’t you, █████████?”

After a beat of silence, you offer a small smile. “I have, sir.”

“As per my orders?” He asks.

You forcefully maintain the smile. “As always.”

“Then, pray tell,” he says, voice lilting up into inquiry, “why is your _friend_ still alive?”

* * *

**ACT 2  
** **SCENE 4**

Taking your silence as betrayal, Dad retrieves his pistol from beneath his seat cushion. In a practiced motion, you feint right and hit the ground into a roll to dodge the first gunshot. Dad aims at your head and you bat the gun out of his hand, sending it flying across the room. He growls, headbutting you to your knees, and drops to the floor to grab his weapon.

“Goro!”

Your head whips around, and you catch the gun with a swipe of your hand. You flick the safety, wrap your finger around the trigger, and aim it towards Dad.

The man has just reached his own pistol and, for the briefest of moments, you falter. Your grip slips and -

Akira tackles Dad and holds the hand with the gun to the floor. Akira is pressed close to your father and a shaky hand could kill the wrong person.

Dad’s thrashing and attempting to push himself off the ground. You scream, aim the gun, _fire_ -

* * *

**ACT 2  
** **SCENE 5**

And Dad’s body crumples beneath Akira.

You drop the gun, arms shaking. You fall to your hands and knees, breathing heavily and allowing the sobs to wrack your body.

Akira kicks the gun away from the corpse for good measure before crawling towards you. He pulls you into a hug, pressing his chin into your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and melt into his embrace.

“It’s over now,” he says, and everything becomes real.

Dad is dead. There are two corpses in your house and both are dead by your hand. Countless others are buried six feet under. Your gun is out of bullets and you have no plans of ever reloading it. Your hands are stained and hell awaits you whenever you breathe your last.

But - it’s over now.

You close your eyes and tighten your grip on Akira.

“I suppose this is retribution,” you murmur.

* * *

_The lights dim and the curtains are drawn closed. The audience gives a standing ovation. The spotlight is turned on and pans over the stage. Curtain call occurs; YOU and AKIRA walk out, hand-in-hand, and are revered with thunderous applause. The curtains close one final time._

**FIN.**

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lot different than my usual style so I would love to hear what you guys think!
> 
> [Shameless self-plug for the Goro Big Bang because I'm a mod and sign-ups are closing soon! We could use more writers and beta readers, so please sign up if you have the chance!](https://twitter.com/gorobigbang2020)


End file.
